


Timeless

by torino10154



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Mystery, Pre-Slash, Slash, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/pseuds/torino10154
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Harry Potter gets quite a shock when he learns the identity of one of his students.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timeless

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Snarryglompfest. Thank you to SDK and Emynn for the beta.

"You might want to sit down, Potter," McGonagall said, waving him towards one of the chairs in front of her desk.

"Must be start of term, there is always high drama." Harry made himself comfortable and took one of the shortbread biscuits from the plate in front of him. "Let me guess, one of Hagrid's beloved _pets_ got loose and we need to catch it before the students arrive and someone is eaten."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "I suggest you brace yourself."

"Oh, it can't be as bad as all that." Harry was tempted to roll his eyes but he wouldn't disrespect the headmistress that way.

"You have a new student in your NEWT level Defence class." She paused and picked up a sheet of parchment from her desk, holding it out to him. "You might recognise the name."

Harry took the parchment and expected to see a long lost Malfoy or a cousin Weasley but his mouth dropped open when he saw the name.

_Severus Snape_

"I—I don't understand." He looked up, knowing he was gaping like a fish.

"I contacted the Ministry and I was assured that this is indeed our Severus Snape, though the Unspeakables were unsurprisingly unwilling to tell us any more than that." McGonagall looked suddenly tired, her face drawn and pale.

"How can he be in my class?" Harry asked, still utterly perplexed. "If he's been alive all this time, he'd be over fifty!"

"And yet, he is just seventeen. A seventh year. Barely more than a child."

They stared at one another and Harry tossed the parchment back on the desk, rubbing his hands over his face. 

"Bloody hell."

"Quite." McGonagall then flicked her wand toward the teapot, which proceeded to pour two cups. A bottle of Firewhisky came next, then she added a splash to each.

"Thanks." Harry picked up his cup and took a sip. "This is going to be interesting."

~*~

Harry wasn't sure what to expect. He knew what Severus Snape had looked like as a teen; he'd seen his memories often enough. Watched some of them over and over again, as a matter of fact.

Hermione had always told him he was obsessed. He figured it was hard not to be after he realised all that Snape had sacrificed for him, including his own life.

Though that was apparently not the case.

When the students entered the Great Hall for the Sorting, Harry found his target right away. A thin, lank-haired young man in Slytherin robes near the front of the group could be no one else.

He wasn't prepared, though, for the piercing look he received from Snape. As if Snape was looking right into his soul. Harry shuddered and broke eye contact. He was certain this Snape knew Harry just as well as Harry knew Snape. 

Harry listened to McGonagall, clapped absentmindedly through the Sorting, and his eyes kept going back to the boy who was far older than his face would suggest. 

He'd get to know Snape soon enough as he had NEWT-level students first thing in the morning. 

Much to his chagrin, Harry stared at the ceiling for much of the night, his mind conjuring different theories, each stranger than the last. Perhaps he could just talk to Snape. Start on the right foot this time.

~*~

"A quick refresher," Harry said clapping his hands together as he paced in front of his class. "What is the most useful defensive spell if you are unsure what has been cast?"

"Expelliarmus," Snape said, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Ah, yes, Mr Snape," Harry said softly, trying to calm his nerves. "You're new this year and have not learned how I conduct my classes. If you would raise your hand, I will then call you in turn. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor." Black eyes bored into Harry's and he knew the turn of phrase was no accident. Twenty years later and Harry still remembered the moment with perfect clarity. It was also apparent he wasn't the only one.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," Harry said shortly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd assigned detention on the very first day of classes but, as ever, Snape was proving to be a special case. He turned and began writing spells on the board. "Your first assignment is to write a twelve inch essay on three of these defensive spells, highlighting the benefits and the drawbacks of each."

There was a rumbling groan behind him and Harry turned back around to face the class. "We will duel on Wednesday so make sure you are properly prepared."

One day in and already Snape was getting to him.

~*~

"I understand you've already given Mr Snape detention, Professor Potter," McGonagall said as she buttered a slice of toast.

"He deserved it." Harry passed her the jam pot. 

"Oh? What did he do?" 

"He was disrespectful."

She looked over her spectacles at him and Harry fought the blush that threatened to colour his cheeks. "History does have a funny way of repeating itself."

"Not especially funny," Harry groused, poking at his eggs. 

"No, it isn't. You'll do well to remember he's not the same man he once was and nor are you the same child." 

"He makes me feel like a child." Harry sighed. 

"Perhaps," McGonagall said, pressing her napkin to her lips before rising, "you should make sure it's clear who is in the position of authority now."

"That's how he ended up in detention."

"I'm sure you'll get him sorted out in no time."

"Did you ever manage to get Severus Snape 'sorted out' when he was a student?" Harry asked, beyond exasperated. 

"No, I cannot say that I did." McGonagall laughed softly and patted his shoulder. "Maybe that's why he's here now. It's up to you to set him to rights, once and for all."

"Brilliant." Harry pushed his plate away as McGonagall took her leave. He looked up to find black eyes studying him. 

This time he wasn't the first to look away.

~*~

Dueling went remarkably well. Snape seemed to be on his best behaviour. Which mostly meant he still made snide remarks under his breath, but he didn't insult Harry to his face so Harry counted that as a win.

He also showed the same effortless skill Harry remembered. He used an economy of movement, sharp stabs and quick slashes rather than rotating his arm like a windmill.

"Impressive display, Mr Snape," Harry said after a particularly well cast Shield Charm. "Ten points to Slytherin."

Snape inclined his head, clearly enjoying the attention from Harry and the other students. 

"Perhaps you'd like to show us your Patronus Charm," Harry said, quite curious to see whether this young Snape could cast it and, more importantly, what his Patronus might be.

However, to his dismay, Snape's pleased expression vanished instantly and he narrowed his eyes, before resorting to his insolent persona once more.

"No," He met Harry's eye again, "I don't think I will." 

"I can cast the Patronus Charm, Professor Potter," Olivia Wood said eagerly.

"Please do, Miss Wood," Harry said, taking his mind off Snape, at least for the moment.

~*~

Saturday evening arrived after the longest first week of term that Harry could remember since his very first. Thoughts of Snape—both young and old—occupied every spare moment, including working their way into Harry's dreams. Sometimes he woke with a tear-stained pillow and other times his reaction was quite different.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered then looked at his watch. Two minutes until eight. Knowing Snape, he'd be right on time.

Sure enough when the second hand slipped passed the nine, Harry heard the knock on his office door.

"Enter," he called out.

"Professor Potter," Snape said as he stepped into the room, school bag slung over his shoulder. "Am I to be writing lines?"

Laughter burst from him before he could stop it. "You should know better, Mr Snape."

"There are no cauldrons to clean." Snape's eyes glittered and Harry was struck once again by how much this student _knew_. 

"Something more personal, perhaps." Harry stood and walked around to the front of his desk. He gestured to the chair in front of him. "Have a seat."

Snape's eyes didn't leave his as he walked forward, dropping his bag beside him as he sat down. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, appearing every bit like Professor Snape of old, only seventeen instead of nearly forty. 

"Let's just cut to the chase, shall we?" Harry said. "How do you know so much about me?"

Lips twitching, Snape replied, "Everyone knows Harry Potter, war hero."

Harry could feel the vein in his temple start to throb. "You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"

"No, I rather enjoy watching you squirm."

"I could use Veritaserum."

"You know as well as I do that it won't work on me." Snape's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"Why won't it work on you?" Harry said softly leaning over Snape now, their faces inches apart. "You're just a student."

"Am I?"

Harry grabbed him by the front of his robes and pulled him up out of the chair. "Who are you?" he shouted. 

Snape looked startled, his thin frame light in Harry's hands. Harry loosened his grip and started to apologise, but Snape spoke first.

"You never could control your emotions."

Harry stepped back and leaned against the desk, his knees weak.

"You aren't him," he whispered. "You can't be."

Snape moved closer to Harry and said, "I am him, and yet I am not."

"I don't understand." Harry was confused, tired, and he'd nearly throttled a student. He nearly laughed when it occurred to him that he was likely the only student who drove Snape so far 'round the bend that he'd resorted to throwing potions ingredients. 

"You are not ready to know."

Snape picked up his bag and started for the door.

"I didn't dismiss you," Harry called toward his back.

"Consider us even for the way you man-handled me," he said and stepped out into the corridor.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Harry said to his empty office.

~*~

"Snape still giving yeh fits?" Hagrid said as he served Harry tea in a cup so large Harry could have drowned in it.

"What do you think?" 

Hagrid laughed, rattling the dishes on the table. "Rockcake?"

"No, thanks." Harry liked his teeth in his mouth, though he had asked Hermione's father to look at a sore one once. Unfortunately, it had worked about as well as Muggle stitches and he wouldn't be making that mistake again. 

"It's not really the Professor, is it?" Hagrid said suddenly quite serious. "Dunno how that'd be possible."

"I don't know either, but he says really strange things." Harry stirred his tea, spoon dinging against the sides. "It's as if he remembers me."

"Everyone knows you, Harry." Hagrid clapped him on the shoulder and even now that Harry was grown, the effect was significant. 

"How is he in your class?" Harry asked, rubbing his shoulder. He'd likely be icing the damn thing later. "Snape never really cared much for animals." Harry'd never forget seeing his leg after Fluffy had got hold of it or the way Buckbeak went after him. Harry'd always wondered whether he had scars on his chest. Probably not. He could heal just about anything.

"He does all right, keeps to himself. Doesn't give me a bit of trouble to be honest with yeh."

Harry laughed at that. "Can't really be Snape then, can it?"

"Maybe he's a son no one knows about." 

A son. Harry blinked. That thought had never occurred to him. But this Snape was seventeen and his Snape had been dead for twenty years.

Hagrid got up to stir the enormous pot over the fire and Harry silently pondered his professor-cum-student.

~*~

As much as Snape puzzled, as well as exasperated, him, Harry was determined to at least keep his composure in the classroom. He was teaching NEWT-level students and he couldn't afford to get distracted by just one of them.

"Your mark for your essay is in the upper right hand corner," he said, magically distributing the scrolls. "If you have questions, come see me after class."

Fortunately, as these were seventh years, many of whom wanted to join the Auror Corps or other department within the Ministry, they were serious students and the grades quite high. His fourth years seemed to be floundering a bit, though, and he hadn't read more misinformation about werewolves and vampires since he was a child in a Muggle library. 

Dismissing his class, he was both surprised and not to see Snape waiting behind.

"Yes, Mr Snape?" he said. "Do you have a question about your essay?"

Snape approached his desk. "This was not Outstanding."

"Oh?" 

"It deserved Exceeds Expectations, at best." He set the scroll down on Harry's desk. 

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Would you like me to re-mark yours?" 

"No," Snape said. "I should hope a professor at an esteemed school such as Hogwarts would impress upon his students the importance of doing their best work rather than rewarding them for trite and meaningless drivel."

Harry gaped for a moment and then burst out laughing, unable to control himself. Snape looked taken aback and slightly embarrassed, the only clue that he was still a student not the man Harry knew him to be. 

"I have no idea why I ever doubted," he said, when he finally caught his breath.

"Doubted what?" Snape's cheeks were still slightly pink.

"That you're my Snape." Harry shook his head. He was going mad but there was no logical explanation that would make him believe anything else.

"Your Snape?" Snape said, curiously. 

"You know what I mean." Harry waved his hand vaguely. "The Snape who was my teacher such a long time ago. I just want to understand how it's possible that a man I watched die twenty years ago is now standing before me less than half his age...."

Harry trailed off as he watched Snape's face lose all colour, his eyes wide as saucers. Thinking he might faint, Harry stood and circled his desk but Snape backed away from him, banging into the desks in his haste to get away.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked softly and reached out, holding Snape's upper arms to keep him from falling, and noticed that he was shaking.

"Dead?" His voice cracked and as if he suddenly realised he'd given something away, broke free of Harry's grasp and fled.

Harry sat down heavily on the desk behind him, more confused than ever. How could Snape know him so well and yet seem completely shocked at what Harry had said? Surely if he'd faked his death, as Harry was beginning to suspect, he would have feigned surprise. This was something else entirely.

~*~

"Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling widely. "Good to see you. You don't visit me nearly often enough."

Harry dipped his head. "Being a professor is hard work, I'm sure you remember."

"I do indeed." Dumbledore chuckled warmly. "Sherbet lemon?" he offered and a bowl appeared on the corner of McGonagall's desk. Harry'd often wondered if the things were laced with a calming draught or Veritaserum, though now he knew that it had just been Dumbledore's ability to draw out answers as well as dabble in Legilimency that made people spill their secrets. 

Harry picked up one of the sweets and popped it into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he was instantly transported to the first time he found himself in the headmaster's office so many years ago.

His eyes popped open, an idea suddenly at the forefront of his mind. He didn't think it was possible but so far every explanation he'd come up with fell short.

"What do you know about time travel?" Harry asked Dumbledore's portrait.

The familiar twinkle in his blue eyes told Harry he was on the right path. 

"What do you remember from your experiment with a Time-Turner, Harry?" Dumbledore said.

Harry sat back and thought about his experience with Hermione third year, his heart aching as he remembered the joy of freeing Sirius, his newfound godfather. Setting his emotions aside, he tried to recall the details.

"Do not be seen."

"Anything else?"

Harry remembered casting his Patronus and how he knew he'd be able to do it, because he'd already done it. He remembered Snape, so mad he could spit, accusing Harry of freeing Sirius and Dumbledore chastising him.

"It is possible to be in two places at once."

"Indeed, it is. Maybe more than two."

Harry thought about that but wasn't convinced that was quite the right path. 

"If all Time-Turners were destroyed," Harry knew they had been, as he'd been there himself, "how could anyone time travel again?"

Dumbledore looked down at him over the edge of his half-moon spectacles. "You don't believe wizards might find another way?"

Harry suddenly recalled Dumbledore's desk, filled with shiny objects that whirled and spun. He winced internally as he recalled the night he very nearly destroyed Dumbledore's office, more than one of his gadgets broken. 

Dumbledore yawned. "Pardon me, Harry, but I am getting so very tired."

Harry had more questions but he wasn't even sure what they were yet. "It's all right, Professor, I'll visit another time."

Dumbledore's eyes were already closed and he was snoring softly before Harry even made it to the door.

~*~

Harry now had theories and counter-theories keeping him up all night, but Snape himself seemed to be pointedly ignoring Harry. He was still in class, participating, and earning Outstandings on every assignment, as Harry knew he would.

As of late, Snape mostly avoided Harry's eye and kept his remarks to a minimum, not engaging Harry in verbal sparring. 

It was very un-Snapelike behaviour at any age. Even young Snape, from what Harry recalled of his memories, always had a plan.

For weeks on end? It made Harry slightly suspicious.

"If I could see you after class, Mr Snape," he said lightly, earning a snicker from the Gryffindor corner of the room and a scowl as black as night from Snape.

When the students packed up their things, Harry watched Snape. He was still so precise in everything he did. Harry was certain he knew exactly where each quill was meant to go in his bag and could locate any colour of ink without opening his eyes.

"Professor," Snape said, eyes defiant, which oddly pleased Harry. Still some life left in him it seemed.

"After spending weeks tormenting me, you suddenly stopped," Harry said. "Would you like to tell me why?"

"I knew you'd break." Snape smirked at him. "You can't stand not being the center of attention."

Harry clenched his jaw and tamped down his irritation. He had wanted to get a rise out of Snape. He shouldn't be angry about getting his wish. 

"Why don't you tell me, Mr Snape, how you got here?"

"You asked me to stay after class," Snape replied, coolly. 

"That's not what I meant." Harry moved closer but Snape stood his ground. "The Snape I know was twenty years older than I am and you are twenty years younger. I thought perhaps he'd had a child—"

Snape snickered then visibly tried to restrain himself. 

Harry cocked his head. "Why is that so funny?" 

"A child requires intercourse with a woman." Snape said nothing else, just raised an eyebrow.

"And our Snape, he didn't care much for women, did he?" 

"You could say that," Snape replied back. "You're the same, I see you watching me."

Harry gaped. "I watch you because you drive me mad!"

"Don't worry, I won't tell. We've always kept each other's secrets."

Snape was looking at him then just like Harry remembered his Snape doing, trying to see what he was thinking. But this Snape wasn't as skilled as Professor Snape had been, of that Harry was certain.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Harry said, voice barely a whisper. "I know you and don't know you. You remember me and yet don't."

"I think your mind is rather muddled, Professor Potter." Snape looked at him with false pity. 

"Just tell me why you're here, _how_ you're here!"

"Once you figure out the how, you'll understand the why." And once again, Snape left Harry more confused than ever.

~*~

"Oh, Harry, you know I can't tell you anything," Hermione replied, irritably.

"You're an Unspeakable, I get it, but help a bloke out here." Harry was at the end of his rope.

She sighed and took pity on him. "If you manage to ask me the right questions, I might be able to help, but I am not allowed to _tell_ you anything."

"Right, OK." Harry leaned back from the Floo and thought for a minute. "This student is genuinely Severus Snape, not a child, yes?"

"As we already confirmed this for the headmistress, I can tell you that his magical signature is identical." 

"Wow." Harry's palms were getting sweaty so he rubbed his hands over his thighs. "I don't understand why he's younger but seems to know everything about me. About us."

Hermione just stared at him. "You are well known, Harry."

"Argh! Everyone says that." Harry thought he might tear his hair. "He doesn't know things about Harry Potter, he knows how I treated him when I was a student."

"There were lots of people in class with us. I know how you two were together."

Harry frowned. "So could young Snape here have seen someone's memories?"

She shrugged.

"That still doesn't explain _how_ he's here though. Is he de-aged or did he time travel?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to say something but kept her mouth closed in a firm line. 

"You're no help at all, Hermione." Harry sighed. "Can you tell me something about time travel in general? All I really know is what happened when we did it third year and a few historical examples of what not to do."

"Well, Harry," she started and Harry recognised a lecture coming on when he heard it, but for once this was a topic he wanted to know more about, "Time-Turners are simplistic, working on the premise that time is linear, moving only forward and back.

"However, there has been much research which suggests time moves in circles or possibly even on parallel planes—"

"Are you talking alternate realities or have you been watching an old Doctor Who series in your spare time?" Harry couldn't help but say.

"Oh, I do love the Doctor, but no, we aren't talking about Time Lords." Hermione stopped, thinking, probably trying to think of a way to explain to a small child, Harry thought to himself. "Imagine a straight line or piece of wire."

"All right."

"Now imagine a coil or spring. Perhaps it's the same length as the wire but to travel along it would take far longer and bring you to different places. It's three-dimensional, not flat, there are a front, back and sides. Are you with me?"

"I think so." Harry could see this in his mind, the small coil like in an old Muggle writing implement. 

"Now imagine you could travel along the outside of the coil, skipping the process of going around and around, like a shortcut, as the owl flies rather than following the road, able to travel both forward and back in time."

"Is that how people travel through time now? With Muggle ballpoints?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Hermione scoffed. "This is but one theory of time travel. There are many others, each more complex than the last."

"What you're telling me is that you actually have no idea how Snape got here?"

"Smarter than you look, Potter," she said and giggled before sobering. 

"One last question which you likely can't answer." Harry took a deep breath. "Why can he be seen? That was rule number one when we used the Time-Turner."

Hermione gave him a look and he knew before she said it what the answer was. "Because he doesn't have to worry about running into his future self."

"But if this one left his time..." Harry scrunched his brow and rubbed it with the heel of his palm. "This is the dimension stuff you talked about, isn't it?"

She nodded and leaned through the Floo to kiss his cheek. "Good talking to you, Harry. Come by for supper sometime. Ron gets lonely with me working late all the time."

"Thanks, Hermione." 

The Floo went dark and Harry stared into the empty grate, lost in thought.

Which gave him an idea.

~*~

"You Summoned me," Snape said stepping into Harry's office, scrap of parchment in hand.

"Yes, I did actually," Harry said. "It's high time we get to the bottom of this situation."

"I might have had a class," Snape said casually.

"You didn't. I checked." 

Snape narrowed his eyes. "What's this about then? I do have revising to do as _some_ of my classes are more of a challenge."

"You always were very good with the Dark Arts, weren't you?" Harry asked, not waiting for an answer. "You gave two lectures when I was a student, which I'll never forget. _I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even—_ "

"Stopper death," Snape said breathlessly, eyes boring into Harry's.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "You do remember."

"How could I forget?" Snape moved closer, seeming rather pleased with himself. 

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?" Harry asked, waiting with bated breath for the three words forever etched in his brain. 

Snape stood less than a foot from Harry and Harry could see his hands clenching into fists. A thrill shot through Harry. Finally he would have his answers.

"Don't call me COWARD!" Snape shouted at him and Harry's surprise at being yelled at was nothing compared to his shock at the words themselves.

"What?" Harry shook his head, baffled. "That's the last thing you remember?"

Snape stared at him, his face utterly blank. "Yes."

"Bloody hell." Harry leaned against his desk, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Thought you had it all figured out, did you?" Snape said, recovering his composure faster than Harry did. 

Harry shrugged. No sense lying to him at this point. He had thought he was on to something. "Not all, no. But if you're telling the truth—"

"I am," Snape said confidently.

"—then a year of your life or your memories is missing."

Snape paled slightly. "I had wondered," he muttered.

"About what?" Harry asked.

"It's nothing," Snape said. "Am I dismissed?"

Feeling unaccountably sad, like a child who let go of the string of his balloon mere moments after it had been put in his hand, he waved his hands, shooing Snape out. "Go."

Snape lingered for a moment, seeming to study Harry, before walking out of his office.

~*~

Like a dog with a bone, Harry thought of Snape—this Snape and _his_ Snape—constantly.

He drove Madam Pince mad scouring the library, and Hermione threatened not to answer his Floo calls if he didn't stop trying to get information from her. 

He was starting to believe she actually didn't know much more than she was letting on anyway. She would have at least told him _something_ by now. 

Staring up at his ceiling for the third night in a row, thoughts running through his mind like a herd of Nifflers, Harry sat straight up in bed and nearly smacked his forehead.

A Pensieve. How many times had he heard Dumbledore mention how useful it was when his mind was cluttered? 

He needed to sort through his thoughts, his memories, see if he could find a pattern or some clue he'd overlooked. 

Yes, that was just the thing. He'd go see the headmistress in the morning and ask to borrow Dumbledore's, which was still where he'd kept it all those years ago.

He took a deep breath and settled back into bed. Though he still dreamt of Snape.

~*~

Harry studied his memories of Snape, both young and old, looking for clues. This younger Snape was good, his actions and choice of words were just what Harry would have expected from Snape.

It was his facial expressions when Harry wasn't looking that gave him away. He looked concerned at times, as if perhaps Harry wasn't convinced of something he'd said. He'd seen Snape, the teacher, weighing options, clearly studying a situation many times. Sometimes blank and impassive, other times arrogant and smug. 

As well as losing his shit more than once. He'd never forget Snape's rage when Sirius escaped and Dumbledore ever so subtly alluded to the Time-Turner. 

A thought occurred to him and he was glad he'd remembered to bring Snape's memories with him. He removed his own and replaced them with Snape's. 

Once he was done, he replaced them carefully, not wanting to lose or damage them after all this time.

He knew all of the lines, like watching a favourite film, anticipating the actors' actions and reactions, though he still noticed something new with each viewing. Perhaps a missing button or a dropped quill, but occasionally it was bigger. 

Maybe he just knew better how to interpret their expressions now that he was older and had more experience reading people. 

If he pushed hard enough, perhaps he could get young Snape to get out of character, off script. To reveal more than he intended.

~*~

It wasn't difficult for Harry to get Snape alone after breakfast one morning as the castle was fairly quiet as most students had gone home for Christmas.

Harry wondered where Snape's home was now, as he knew the house his Snape had lived in was abandoned years ago.

"Would you mind coming with me to the headmistress's office, Mr Snape? There's something I'd like to show you," Harry asked, catching up to him outside the Great Hall.

"Do I have a choice?" Snape narrowed his eyes slightly then added, "Professor."

"Of course," Harry replied. "I do think you'll find it quite illuminating."

Recognising the look of interest on his face, Harry said, "Come on," and turned, hoping Snape would follow. 

Snape started behind him but, though they were practically the same height, Snape took longer strides and was soon walking beside Harry.

Harry wanted to strike up a conversation but decided that between them perhaps silence was an improvement. When their roles had been reversed, Snape never missed an opportunity to say something nasty to Harry when no one might overhear. 

Apparently this Snape, too, was curious enough about what Harry planned to show him that he was holding his tongue.

When they reached the gargoyle, Harry said the password, " _Inanimatus Conjurus_ ", then he and Snape proceeded up the staircase. The door opened before Harry knocked.

"Professor Potter, Mr Snape," McGonagall said.

"Headmistress," Snape said, more politely than he ever spoke to Harry, though that wasn't too surprising.

"Thank you for letting us use your office," Harry said and she tutted.

"Nonsense." McGonagall gave Harry a pat on the shoulder then turned and gestured toward the Pensieve. "I believe you know what to do?"

Harry nodded and looked at Snape, whose eyes were open wide. 

"I'll let you know when we're done." 

Harry heard McGonagall close the door behind her but kept his eyes trained on Snape, who walked towards the Pensieve as if drawn by magic.

"You know what that is, don't you?"

Snape's head snapped around. "Going to use it with permission this time, are you?"

Refusing to feel guilty over something that had happened over twenty years ago, Harry stepped up to the opposite side of the Pensieve. 

"Would you rather we look at some of my memories?" Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and poked at the swirling liquid. "Or should we look at yours?"

"What do you want to show me?" Snape asked, eyes flicking between Harry and the Pensieve. 

Steeling himself—and slightly regretting the cruel thing he was about to do—Harry said, "Show you my memory of when Snape died." He looked Snape right in the eye. "When _you_ died."

Snape stepped back, face pale and pained, shaking his head. "I thought you were different, but you're the same, aren't you? Just as mean and horrible as he was."

"Who?" Harry knew he needed to push Snape—then maybe he'd tell Harry what he wanted to know. "You?" 

"Stop it," Snape hissed.

"How about you pick a memory to show me, then?" 

"Why should I?" Snape crossed his arms over his chest, his wand clenched tightly in his hand. 

Harry's heart raced, knowing he was getting to Snape, but more than a little nervous all the same. "Because we aren't leaving this room until I am satisfied."

"Shall I show you the memory of what _I_ remember from our Occlumency lessons, Potter?" Snape's eyes flashed and a smirk curled his lips. "You, on your knees. Panting."

Harry's face burned hot. "It wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it?" Snape stalked closer.

They stared at one another and Harry decided to fight fire with fire. "You think I don't know about all the times you were watching me, but I do. Remember, I saw things in your memories as well, Snape. Like you watching me strip down to my pants in the Forest of Dean."

"Liar! That never—" 

"You gave me your memories, Snape," Harry shouted. "And now you'll see what I want you to see." Harry grabbed his wrist and pushed him toward the Pensieve.

"No!" Snape jerked away from him, wand pointed at him. "I don't want to see it."

"Then tell me why you remember everything else, but not that last year."

"It's all right, Severus." Harry and Snape both turned toward Dumbledore's portrait. "Why don't you tell Harry?"

"I can't." Snape was visibly uncomfortable. "I gave my word."

"To whom did you give your word?" Dumbledore asked, gently.

"To _him_. To Snape."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"But you are him, Severus," Dumbledore continued. "Surely, there is a reason you now find yourself here with us." 

Harry saw the moment that Snape acquiesced, the expression on his face changing to one of resignation.

As much as Snape had argued with Dumbledore, he always ended up doing as he was asked. 

Dumbledore's man, through and through. 

"I—" He cleared his throat and started again. "I am not sure where to begin."

"At the beginning, of course." Dumbledore twinkled down at them. "Harry, perhaps you and Severus should sit."

Harry nodded and, with a wave of his wand, two chairs scooted across the room and stopped right behind the two of them but Snape didn't sit down.

"Would you rather show him? In the Pensieve?"

Snape walked to the Pensieve and stared down into it for a long moment before looking back at Harry. "Take the other memories out."

Harry brought his wand out and slowly removed the three memories he'd placed in it, one at a time, and put them into phials he had in his pocket. 

"All right."

Snape nodded and lifted his wand to his temple, the thin strand of memory pulled from his mind, before leaving it in the Pensieve. 

"Both of us?" Harry asked, holding out his hand, and Snape took it before they both tipped their heads into the basin.

Harry found himself looking at yet another Snape who was opening a parcel. A letter lay beside it, the header read: Gringotts.

This Snape in the memory looked to be only a little younger than the one standing at Harry's side watching. 

Inside the parcel was a large wooden box and Harry imagined it might have stored potions ingredients and other equipment, like something Slughorn would have used when he was a student.

Snape opened it and inside were hundreds of small phials but they weren't for potions. They all contained what looked to be the same thing.

Memories.

Snape lifted a center panel and revealed a small Pensieve—identical to Dumbledore's, only half the size—as well as a silver sphere the size of a Snitch, and a letter. 

Memory Snape read the letter, his hands shaking, and Harry moved closer so he could read over his shoulder. 

_...Take them, watch them, memorise them. These are now your memories._

_...Carry the sphere on your person at all times. It has been meticulously calibrated._

_...A second chance. Do not squander this opportunity as I once did._

_...Should you find Harry Potter, go to him, he will help you but be warned..._

Harry wanted to see the rest of that line but Snape turned away from him and the memory dissolved as Snape poured one of the phials into the Pensieve. The next memory began with Snape in the same room and Harry watched as the silver orb, which hung on a chain around Snape's neck, began to spin. Snape held it up by the chain and watched the dials turning. When it finally stopped, Snape closed his eyes.

The memory continued as he opened his eyes, and found himself staring up at Gringotts. Harry could tell immediately this was modern day Diagon Alley because of the changes that had occurred after the war. 

Snape walked up the stairs into the bank, the memory dissolved, and Harry soon found himself lifting his head and looking at Snape across the Pensieve again.

"When was that?" Harry asked.

"My seventeenth birthday. I expected a letter when I came of age."

Harry nodded. "How long was it after that before you found yourself here?"

"Six months, it was summer before seventh year, just like when I arrived here." Snape looked up as if he were trying to remember something, his right hand rubbing his left arm. "I had somewhere to be the very next day but I never went."

"No?"

Snape looked at him with narrowed eyes and clenched his jaw. Yanking up his sleeve, he showed Harry his bare arm. 

"No."

"All right, just making sure." Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Do you have any idea why you're here? You clearly know me as well as you know yourself."

Snape turned away, uncomfortable, and Harry decided to let it go, focusing his attention on Dumbledore.

"Do you think he made the memory box after sixth year?" Harry asked. "After what happened?"

Dumbledore stroked his long beard. "Hmm, yes, that would explain many things."

"Not everything though."

"Not all questions have answers, Harry."

Harry would have laughed except it wasn't funny. "I learned that years ago, Headmaster."

Dumbledore looked at him, the twinkle in his eye not as bright as usual. "You did indeed, dear boy."

"Are we done talking in circles?" Snape asked, frowning. 

"Perhaps you should escort Severus back to his dorm," Dumbledore said, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

"Of course, Headmaster." Harry walked with Snape to the office door before turning around. "I'll be back."

"I know you will, Harry."

~*~

Though it was cold, Harry still did his best thinking on his broom so he bundled up, cast his longest lasting warming charm and took to the skies over Hogwarts.

Harry'd always held out a secret hope that Snape had somehow managed to save himself. And he had. Just not in the end. Snape must have known his days were numbered after he'd killed Dumbledore and made the memory box for himself not long after.

Harry swooped and dived over the lake, avoiding the tentacle reaching up towards him from the surface as he pondered the possibilities, each stranger than the next. 

More than anything, why had Snape wanted his young self to come back to Hogwarts? And Harry knew he wasn't imagining the fact that Harry himself was the focus of a lot of Snape's attention. Most of it was negative, yes, seeming to pay Harry back for each and every incident between them when Harry was a student.

There was more than that though, Harry thought, circling high above the Forbidden Forest. Snape had made suggestive comments, which wasn't unusual for a teenage boy but to fire them off at Harry, his professor, in such a _knowing_ manner....

Flying back toward the school, somehow Harry wasn't at all surprised to see a lone student atop the Astronomy Tower, black hair flying in the wind. 

Harry brought his broom down lightly.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked Snape who wore his standard robes and scarf but nothing warmer.

"I am a wizard," he replied, the eye roll clear from his tone of voice.

"So you are," Harry said laughing. "A very skilled one if memory serves." He faced the same way as Snape, looking out over the grounds. They stood in silence for some time, Harry allowing his body to relax after his exhilarating flight and enjoy the peaceful moment.

When he turned his head, he realised Snape was looking at him strangely.

"What?" Harry rubbed his chin. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Why are you being nice now? I've been nothing but a bastard to you." He frowned. "Not that you didn't deserve it."

"You must be here for a reason and maybe it's time to put the past behind us." Harry shrugged. "You're not yet eighteen. You've got your whole life ahead of you. Have you thought of what you'll do when you finish school?"

"Something with Potions. I know he was a Potions Master, but I think I'd like to do more."

"I know someone who works as an Unspeakable," Harry said. "Maybe she has some inside tips about what it takes to get a job working with potions there."

Snape looked sceptical. "What's in it for you?" 

"Me?" 

"Why help me?"

"Christ, Snape." Harry ran both hands through his hair and rubbed the top of his head with his fingertips. "Always so suspicious."

"Usually with good reason." Snape walked toward the stairs. Harry felt like the opportunity to get to know Snape better was slipping through his fingers. 

"Snape?"

He stopped and turned—his robes flaring around his ankles—crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. Harry was sharply reminded of Professor Snape and his flair for the dramatic.

"This is a second chance." Harry gave a half-shrug. "For both of us, yeah?" 

Snape looked at him for a long moment, perhaps merging the two versions he knew of Harry the same way Harry was doing with Snape. Reconciling the fact that the man from his memories was the same as the one standing before him now, their roles reversed.

"I suppose so," Snape said flatly. 

"Come on," Harry said approaching him. "I'm freezing now."

Snape snickered, eyes flicking toward him, before he started down the stairs. "You should work on your Charms."

"Maybe I will," Harry said softly, a smile stealing across his face.

~*~

"Harry," Hermione said, warmly. "How is your project coming along?"

Harry was more than a little pleased that she even answered his Floo Call. He had been quite certain that he'd worn out his welcome badgering her.

"My project is fine. He's good actually." Harry smiled. "He doesn't think he wants to be a teacher when he finishes at Hogwarts."

Hermione studied him, which never boded well. She was too clever. Harry figured he'd better plunge right in before she started asking the questions.

"But that's not really what I wanted to talk about."

"Oh? I was certain you had more questions for me." She waited.

"Merlin, Hermione." Harry shook his head. "What I meant was, I wanted to ask more about time travel and magical theory."

"All right." He didn't like the very smug look that crossed her face. Not one bit. 

Harry exhaled. "This is what I know. Somehow Professor Snape brought his younger self forward in time. So far forward that he won't ever have to run into his older self because our Snape is dead."

"Go on."

"Well... who is doing the things twenty year old Snape did? That Snape is here now, isn't he?" It was questions like this that reminded Harry why he'd never considered joining the Department of Mysteries.

"Do you remember your teacher, Professor Snape?" Hermione asked but held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to reply. "Remember when he wanted to get you expelled—"

"Which time?" Harry muttered.

"When he went to Voldemort the night he returned, Occlumency lessons, even killing Dumbledore? You remember those things?"

Harry could see each of those memories and so many others in his mind and he nodded. "Yes, of course, I remember them."

"So you know they happened. Just like when you cast your Patronus third year. Only this time you aren't seeing from the same point of view." She sat back and looked at him.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You're telling me you don't really understand either, aren't you?"

Pointedly not answering his question, Hermione asked, "Has magic always made sense to you, Harry?"

"No, you know it hasn't. But there are laws. Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, which says—"

"You can't Conjure food." Hermione laughed. "Trust me, Ron's tried. But you see, what did wizards believe before Gamp came up with his laws? We don't have answers to all of the mysteries of magic. Why else would there even be a Department of Mysteries? 

"It's like Muggles and science. We learn more and realise what we thought was correct was just the beginning of our understanding. It used to be that Time-Turners were the only possible way to time travel, but now we know that's not the case at all."

Harry rubbed his hands over his face, a pain behind his left eye just beginning. "How do you not go mad?"

"It's not the destination, Harry, it's the journey." She beamed at him. "So, are you ready to tell me what you plan to do with Snape?"

Harry startled at the wording but didn't think Hermione meant it like that. He hoped he wasn't quite that transparent. 

"He thinks he might want to be an Unspeakable. I told him I'd put a good word in for him with you."

"Duly noted." She cocked her head and gave him a knowing look. "Anything else?"

"You're impossible." He couldn't help but smile, though. "I want to get to know him. There has to be a reason Snape sent him here." 

"I should think so, yes."

~*

"How is our Mr Snape?" McGonagall asked Harry at breakfast one morning, catching him off-guard.

"Behaving himself in class, if that's what you're asking," Harry said before taking a bite of toast. 

"A ceasefire of sorts, is it?" 

"You could say that."

"It's good to see him like this, happier than I can ever remember." She took of sip of her tea, eyes on Snape. "Such a wonderful gift, to have a second chance at life."

Harry snorted. "Not a gift really."

"Oh? Why do you say that?" 

"Do you know the trouble Snape went to in making this happen? He must have worked on it for months, maybe years in the planning." It was awe-inspiring the more Harry thought about it.

"He did seem to show a talent for rather lengthy projects," she said dryly, then took a sip of her tea. "But then, so do you."

"Nonsense." Harry snickered. "I'm reckless and impatient."

"Persistent. Dedicated. Noble. A quintessential Gryffindor." She patted his hand. "Perhaps having someone to mentor will be good for you."

"Mentor?" Harry said. "Pretty sure Snape doesn't need guidance."

"That's where you're very wrong." She frowned then and became quite serious. "That would have done him a world of good as a youth."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "So he's here now so I can put him on the straight and narrow?"

"You have quite a history, you and Professor Snape. Funny he would seem to single you out, isn't it?"

Fortunately, he was saved from replying by a food fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin and by the time it was sorted, he had to get to his next class.

~*

Snape stood in front of Harry's desk with a scowl on his face. "I have a class."

"I'll write you a pass," Harry said, mildly. "I wanted to tell you I spoke with my friend who works in the Department of Mysteries."

"And what did this friend of yours say?" Snape got a look on his face that Harry recognised well. Eagerness tempered with suspicion. As if it was too good to be true. And in the past, maybe Snape had been right. 

Now and in the future things would be different. 

"Assuming you do well on your NEWTS, which I know you will, she'll be looking forward to speaking with you."

"Calling in favours and pulling strings? I thought you were a Gryffindor," Snape replied, still wary. 

Harry chuckled. "I assure you, I pulled no strings. If she doesn't think you're top notch, nothing I could say would get her to change her mind."

Snape relaxed a bit then. Harry was sure he'd want to prove himself rather than owe any favours.

"Is there anything else?"

"Actually," Harry walked around behind his desk and reached into the bottom drawer, "I understand tomorrow is your birthday. I wanted you to have this." He held out a simply wrapped package.

"What is it?" Snape said, turning it over in his hands.

"Open it and you'll find out."

Harry watched as Snape pulled the paper off, revealing the book.

" _The Alchemist's Apprentice_ by Nicholas Flamel," Snape read, his hand running over the leather cover, before opening it and beginning to turn pages. "Where did you get it?" he finally asked, looking up.

"The Headmistress's office." Dumbledore had suggested it to Harry, saying that he'd often considering giving it to Snape but never did. McGonagall had been more than happy to part with it, muttering about meddling old men with more books than they knew what to do with. "It's signed, did you notice?"

Snape nodded and turned back to the first page, his fingertip tracing over the slightly faded ink. 

"Thank you." 

"You're very welcome."

Harry leaned against his desk and watched Snape walk out the door, head in his book, and smiled.


End file.
